Wait a Minute, Mr. Stinky Man

So, I was at the library the other day and this guy comes in, sits down, plugs his phone charger in the floor outlet, and begins what is to become a 20-minute-long, loud phone conversation. I really wanted to say something to him, but instead I kept my head down (lame, I know) and typed this:

Hello…you’re in the library.  Maybe you don’t know much about library etiquette. Maybe you can’t even read. But, just so you know, you’re supposed to be quiet in here.   I’m sure they don’t mind if you want to come in and charge your phone. You might live in a tent in the park and have no electricity; by all means, take advantage of the complimentary power.

Feel free to peruse the profusion of books, magazines, and newspapers while you’re waiting. But, why do you have to talk so loud? Why do we all have to hear that your phone will be cut off tomorrow and you’ve just signed up for a program that will get you a new phone but it might be 7-10 days until you have it. Are you so important that you have to get the word out so your peeps won’t panic when they try to call you and can’t get through?

And why are you wearing so much of that god-awful, sickening cheap cologne? Do you think that spraying tons of it on yourself will cover up the fact that you haven’t showered in a week? Are you trying to attract an equally stinky hoochie mama who will happily invite you to her room to give you a charge? I cough and scowl at you, but you are oblivious. The smell is so strong I can taste it. Icky, icky, eww.

I really want to say something to you, but what purpose would that serve? You’d probably start talking loud to me. Or, you’d complain to whoever you’re on the phone with that some bitch is giving you attitude.

You might even pull a knife out of your pocket and start wielding it like a madman. Chase me around the book shelves and cause a ruckus. I mean, you never know these days what will push a person over the edge.

I’ll just leave. Now.